


Needing/Getting

by slantedsunlight



Series: The Ski Lodge Verse [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Actual Good Advice from Veronica Lodge, Angst, Archie Andrews with the puppydog eyes, Author has never been skiing so prepare for a lot of vague guesswork around that, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jughead is sullen and pining and oblivious, Listen to the OK GO song for best results, No Murder AU, Ski lodge AU, buckle up for a rollercoaster of emotions, ski lodges have hot tubs right, sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slantedsunlight/pseuds/slantedsunlight
Summary: In a Riverdale never shaken by Jason Blossom’s murder, Jughead Jones still has plenty keeping him up at night - like letting go of his enormous, unrequited crush on Betty Cooper, or how to get out of the school ski trip. As it turns out, he isn't very good at either...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In full disclosure, I'm from Florida. I've never been to a ski lodge, never even tried skiing, but I've seen Chalet Girl and I assume that's enough background info to work with. Apologies to any ski enthusiasts out there, but I think most of us are here for Bughead make outs, not accurate depictions of winter sports. Please address all complaints (or praise, always here for that) in the comments. ;)

 

 

 _I've been hoping for months, hoping for years, hoping I might forget._  
_Aw but it don't get much dumber, it don't get much dumber_  
_than trying to forget a girl when you love her._  
_And I, yeah I still need you, but what good's that gonna do?  
_ _Needing is one thing, and getting, getting's another._

\- [OK GO, Needing/Getting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDYsJhHsVE0)

 

 

 

 

There were three things Jughead knew he was completely incapable of: leaving a mystery unsolved, skiing, and _not_ being desperately, secretly in love with Betty Cooper.

Okay, so there were definitely more things on that list... but when Archie begged him to sign up for the school ski trip, those were the three that came to mind.

“Please Jug? It will be fun, I promise!”

Jughead shoved his chem book into his locker, the weight of certainty heavy in the pit of his stomach: it would **not** be fun.

“You’ve seen me trip over my own feet just walking. In what alternate universe do you think I _wouldn’t_ shatter my spine down a mountain?” He slammed the locker shut and started the trek to the cafeteria. Archie trailed after him, his best attempt at puppydog eyes in Jughead’s peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he admitted, “you won’t enjoy the skiing, but will you come anyway? As a favor to me?”

Jug stopped short, leveling a shrewd look at Archie. “Why is this so important to you, Arch? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” His ginger friend protested, hands raised innocently, “I just think we’ll all have more fun if you come-”

“Liar.”

“AND I think it will suck for you to be here all alone for winter break.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Do you even have a place to stay when the school’s closed?”

Jughead ignored the question- plaguing his own thoughts lately- and instead raised a mocking eyebrow. “Oh, so this is a selfless request? Purely for my benefit?”

“Um…”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Archie had lots of natural talents, but acting wasn’t one of them. Whatever he was hiding tugged at Jughead’s curiosity, even as he tried aggressively not to care. Caring usually got him in trouble.

They pushed through the doors to the courtyard and tossed their bookbags onto an empty picnic table, where Archie unfolded a foil-wrapped sandwich with acute self-pity. Jughead rolled his eyes, but even as he thought of ways to tease his best friend, his attention snagged on another pertinent detail.

“So... who else is going?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Archie lit up again. “Like, everyone, man. It’s going to be awesome.”

Jughead thought of Betty in a ski suit and was momentarily **Unavailable** , but Archie continued, oblivious.

“We’re staying in this all-inclusive resort with an indoor pool and a bunch of hot tubs. They don’t even charge you to use their ski equipment.”

This snapped Jug’s attention back. “Funny you mention that, Arch, because in case you’ve forgotten: my current occupation of ‘homeless waif’ isn’t paying much. Even if I wanted to go - which I don’t - I could never afford this trip. Let’s be realistic.”

“Yes, let’s,” Veronica said, sitting down next to Archie. Betty and Kevin were right behind her, and Jughead moved to make room for them. He tried not to react as Betty squeezed in on his left, hyper-aware of the points where her arm and thigh brushed his, as she settled in with her cafeteria pizza.

“Hi Juggie,” Betty said, her soft smile flaring warmth through him.

He quirked a smile in reply, hoping she hadn’t caught much of their conversation. But when his eyes lingered on her for an extra moment, he caught the look she flashed Archie, something sly and unreadable. Archie saw it too, and he struggled to hide a smile in return. Jughead felt his chest constrict with an icy pang.

Then Veronica snapped him out of it. “Didn’t Archie tell you? You’ve got a wealthy benefactress, Pip.”

“I hated Great Expectations,” Jug deadpanned, while Archie flushed and jumped back in.

“I was getting to that, Ronnie.” Turning back to Jughead, he explained, “We’re all going for free, the Lodges’ are covering us.”

The announcement took a moment to sink in.

“That’s...suspiciously generous.”

“No,” Veronica said with a devilish smile. “That’s me getting what I want for my 17th birthday.”

 

\- - - - -

 

Jughead jumped as he felt the buzz of his phone against his leg during History. Behind his textbook, he sneaked a peek at the screen, and swallowed hard at the sight of Betty’s name.

 **Betty:** Hey are you free after school today?

 **Jughead:** I think I can make time around rewriting the first chapter of my novel for the 27th time. What’s up?

 **Betty:** Have something to talk to you about. Can you come to my house at 3?

 **Jughead:** Sounds serious. You okay?

 **Betty:** Yeah it’s nothing bad :)

 **Jughead:** Oookay. See you at 3 then, Agatha Christie.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, hanging out with Betty. He did it all the time, albeit usually with the buffer of Archie and lately, Veronica. Still, the combination of nerves and curiosity over her request had Jug too distracted to pay attention in any of his afternoon classes, and he bolted gratefully when the final bell rang.

The walk to Betty’s house, however, was somewhat sobering. It was one thing, to see all his friends at school, sitting together without a thought to social class or income, despite their wide spectrum of life circumstances; it was quite another to follow cultivated oak-lined roads, past the manicured lawns of pristine suburban homes in shades like _robin’s egg_ and _fawn_.  He never used to notice, when he and Archie were kids, exploring the neighborhood like they owned it, and frequently pulling Betty along with them. Now, the sight of all that normalcy made him feel like an intruder, someone no longer welcome here, with his trailer-trash, broken family written all over him.

He felt the itch to turn around, find some secluded spot with free wifi and a power outlet where he could lose himself in writing the next Great American Novel, or so he hoped. He wouldn’t always be stuck on the wrong side of the tracks in this small town, not when the rest of the world was waiting outside of it.

But then he turned the corner, and spotted the blonde leaning under the popped hood of her parent’s car, and all thoughts of leaving Riverdale narrowed to a sharp, stabbing point.

“So are you The Fast, or The Furious?” he said, walking up behind her.

“Neither,” her tinny voice echoed as she ducked her head and withdrew from the car. “I’m Grease Lightning.”

She turned to grin at him and he couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve certainly got the ‘grease’ part covered,” he said, swiping a thumb across her temple, where a black smudge marked her.

She made a face, pointing to the roll of paper towels over Jug’s shoulder, and he tossed them to her. As she rubbed at the spot, Jughead let his eyes wander around her garage, taking in spare tires, a stack of faded frisbees, her father’s organized wall of tools and the neat line of shoes by the door, sets of heels and loafers and white keds.

His earlier discomfort echoed through him again, before Betty’s voice brought his attention back.

“Did I get it all?”

She still had a streak down the side of her jaw that he hadn’t spotted before. Relaxing into a smirk, he nodded slowly.

“That’s a no, then,” she said with a laugh in her voice, and leaned down to see her reflection in the car’s side mirror.

Jughead shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, where they would be less tempted to grab the paper towel and help clean her up. He cleared his throat, feeling warm.

“So, what’s up? Why the clandestine meeting?” he said to distract himself.

“Not clandestine, I just wanted to bring this up in person.” She straightened, facing him with a determined look. Anxiety pricked the back of his neck.

“You’re a writer,” she said.

He blinked. “Is that a question?”

“No, I’m pitching you an idea. I want to restart the _Blue & Gold_, and I think you should write for it.”

He tilted his head. “The school newspaper? Hasn’t that been dead for years?”

“Not dead-- dormant. It just needs a voice again. I think you should be that voice.”

He squinted thoughtfully. “You think anyone at school will bother reading it?”

“If we tell good stories, they will. Besides, even if no one ever reads it, ‘Lead Reporter’ will still look great on your resume.”

“Making you... what, the Editor?”

“In Chief,” she stood straighter, smiling proudly. “Let’s do this, Juggie, please? It’ll be fun.”

“Why does everyone keep promising me that today?” he grumbled.

“Maybe you need more fun in your life,” Betty teased, taking a step toward him with earnest eyes. He tried to ignore how close she was, smelling like the tang of metal and something more sweetly floral underneath, familiar the way that home should be.

She bit her lip as she waited for his answer, tense but hopeful, and he let himself imagine it; film noir scenes of hunching over laptops in the dark, red editor’s marks on his work in her handwriting, staking out leads in parked cars together. All rain and binoculars and pressing close.

“What do you say, Jug?”

He wanted it so badly that his voice stuck in his throat. He knew it would be torture to weave their lives together any further, reasons piling up in his head why this was a Bad Idea… but they were all the same reasons he couldn’t say no.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he said, but she was hugging him almost before he finished his sentence, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her in return. For a moment, the weight of all his anxieties lifted; he was just a teenage boy hugging the girl he liked.

“And you’re coming on the ski trip, right?” Betty said as she pulled back.

In the end, he never stood a chance, when Betty was asking him.

\- - - - -

 

The day of their departure was blustery, wet, and cold, which suited Jughead just fine. He preferred when the weather matched his mood, and sitting alone at the back of the charter bus while Betty cuddled up with Archie near the front had him in a terrible one.

He should have seen this coming, he reminded himself, annoyed to have fallen into his own emotional trap, as if he hadn’t yet learned his lesson when it came to Betty Cooper ten times over. As clever and perceptive as she was, the girl had carried stars in her eyes for their mutual best friend for most of their lives, even when Archie never returned her feelings. Or at least, he hadn’t before. Now, Jughead wasn’t so sure.

There was something happening there, a secretive air surrounding the two as they chatted together at the front of the bus. They quieted the moment he stepped on board, offering identical, over-bright smiles until he had passed them on the way to an empty seat. It was more than suspicious.

Taking his seat, he could just see the tops of their heads if he strained his neck, her glossy ponytail bouncing as she talked, Archie’s head a beacon blazing next to hers. It occurred to him that he might have signed up for five entire days of this exact view, and he gritted his teeth as he looked away, curiosity melting into malaise.

It’s not like he could even really blame his friend for finally noticing Betty, if that was indeed the case. The last year had been incredibly good to her, as she shed her braces and hit her last growth spurt. Almost overnight, the cute girl next door had grown into her curves, and there was something more knowing in her eyes, even if her smile was as sweet as ever.

Jughead’s secret crush had only grown worse, but since he’d been fighting it for years already, it just felt like another aspect of his fucked up life. If Archie and Betty were going to be a thing after all, he’d just have to try harder to accept reality and move on, to be happy for his friends.

 _Any day now_ , he thought.

“Why the long face, Heathcliff?”  

Jughead turned to see Veronica sliding into the empty seat next to him, Burberry travel bag perched on her lap. He wasn’t up for her brand of clever wordplay at the moment, but she had him boxed in, eyes keen on his face.

“Veronica, I want to be a writer _professionally_ , and I think you make too many literary references. Can’t you just obsess over Instagram and memes like the rest of us?”

“Don’t deflect, Jones, that only works with Archiekins. Speaking of whom…” she glanced around before leaning into his personal space conspiratorially. “Your self-pity-party wouldn’t have anything to do with our two mutual besties getting cozy up front, would it?”

Alarm flashed through Jughead, and judging by the amused, sympathetic look on Veronica’s face, she had noticed.

“Don’t panic,” she said, softer than before. “I’m just the new girl; it’s a lot easier to see these things from an outside perspective.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hedged.

“Plausible deniability - that’s smart,” she said. “Unnecessary, in this case, but smart.” She sat back in her seat. “I would never give away a friend like that, for the record.”

He almost asked her if they _were_ friends, but he could see the challenge blazing in her eyes, the false bravado of “not caring” if he did. He knew her well enough by now to recognize it as a front. Maybe they were friends after all.

He hesitated on the edge of speaking. The prospect of admitting his long-secret feelings sent his stomach for a loop. Thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, he knew there would be no going back from it.

“It’s not like anything is ever going to come of it,” he began, still skittish of putting it into words directly. Veronica smiled in understanding.

“Not with that attitude, Jones. Tell me about it? And start from the beginning.”

So he did. The bus had begun moving at some point, sending them on their way, but Jughead hardly noticed as he slowly, haltingly told the story of his developing feelings for Betty Cooper.

Veronica was a surprisingly good listener, quiet but attentive, and showing no signs of scorn, even when he pointed out his socioeconomic circumstances weren’t doing him any favors in feeling like he had a chance with Betty. Jughead hadn’t thought there was really much to say about his crush, but the words poured out of him like a broken dam, and he talked for what felt like hours.

“Wow,” Veronica said, when he had finally finished. “I had no idea this was so serious.”

“It’s really not,” he said, shrugging it off.

“Please understand I mean this with love, but you’re incredibly dense for someone so smart.”

He glared at her. “Do you always insult people right after they confide in you, or am I just special? There are plenty of empty seats on this bus, you know. Feel free to find another one.”

“Chill, Holden Caulfield. I only mean that you’re shooting yourself in the foot by being so adamantly pessimistic, without citing your sources.”

Jughead remembered now why he had never grown very close with this girl. She drove him crazy.

“Have you ever asked Betty how _she_ feels?” Veronica continued.

“Despite your arm chair analysis, I’m not actually an idiot, so, no.”

“Well, just to recap here,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes, “You’ve had feelings for one of your best friends for years, you guys hang out all the time, she’s recently come up with ways to spend even more time with you- _alone_ \- and she asked you to come on this trip, right? You’re telling me that in the last couple of years we all have in this town, before college and adult life take us God knows where, you’re never going to ask even _once_ if she might be interested in more than friendship?”

“You haven’t been in Riverdale that long, so maybe you haven’t noticed how she looks at Archie.” He waved his hand forward. “If you’ll direct your attention to the front of this bus, you can see for yourself. Trust me, I’m not the friend she wants more with.”

“Trust _me_ , Jughead, when I tell you that you’ve talked yourself out of a clear perspective on Betty’s feelings, and if my hunch is correct, Archie’s too. I may look like I’ve never struggled in life, but I know a thing or two about regret, and so will you, if you never ask her.”

They settled into an angry silence after that, Jughead pulling his headphones on and leaning as far away from the brunette as he could. He knew she meant well, deep down, but that didn’t calm his frustration. Veronica didn’t understand, how much worse it would be to _know_ Betty didn’t like him, especially right now, when the prospect of working on the school paper together was the brightest bit of news in his life.

He spent the rest of the trip staring out his window, watching the drab, grey landscape rush by and mentally preparing for an uncomfortable holiday at best.

 

\- - - - -

 

By the time they arrived at the resort, the winter daylight was already giving way to night, a bitter, cutting mountain breeze sweeping through them as they shuffled off the bus and into the warm, well-lit lobby. Festive holiday ribbons in glaring red and gold peppered the rustic wood decor as if they’d been fired out of a cannon, making Jughead frown deeper than usual.

“Come on buddy, we just got here. Can you at least pretend to be excited?” Archie said, coming up behind him and clapping him on the shoulder. He looked so earnest that guilt tugged at Jughead, and he offered a crooked smile in apology.

“Sorry, you know scowling is my default setting. I’ll try to be less ‘Grinch’ and more ‘Who-ville’ for the next few days. No promises, though.”

Archie laughed as Kevin came up next to them, almost shouting in his excitement. “Did you guys hear there’s a hot chocolate bar over there?”

The three boys grinned at each other for a moment before bolting away, playfully tugging and tripping one another to be the first in line.

The joy of youth and freedom and free food buoyed Jug through the rest of the night, as they gorged on the resort buffet and squabbled good-naturedly over who would ski the best that week. Betty sat with Veronica, playing with Snapchat filters and sending their silliest selfies to the rest of the group, until the boys were drawn into face-swapping and giggling at the results until curfew.

By the time Jughead and Archie trudged up to the their shared room, both of them were in a cheerful mood, joking and teasing each other like they were twelve again, before Jughead’s life had taken a darker turn. They thumb-wrestled over who got the bed by the heater, and even though he was pretty sure Archie had let him win, he claimed his prize like a king, flopping backwards onto the mattress with arms outstretched.

It wasn’t until later, in the hushed darkness that followed their goodnights, that reality crept back in to poke holes in Jughead’s contentment.

His best friend’s exceptional optimism hovered through the room like a physical presence, even after the redhead began snoring, and Jug sobered quickly when he thought about why. He was pretty sure Betty’s laugh had intoxicated them all that night. He could still picture her head bent close to Archie’s on the bus that morning, whispering something meant only for him. Jughead would be elated too, if he were Archie.

Tossing and turning on the too-soft mattress, he stared at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock long into the night, sinking deeper and deeper into miserable speculation.

 

\- - - - -

 

 _This is how I die,_ Jughead thought the next morning, as the ski lift dragged him upward toward impending doom.

 

Under any other circumstance, it would have taken massive amounts of money and/or mind-altering substances to get him into a borrowed snow suit, board under his arm, feet dangling- but Betty had approached him at breakfast under the guise of _Blue & Gold_ business, dragging him off before he could finish his bacon.

To be fair, he would let her drag him anywhere, free breakfast or no.

Still, he couldn’t help the sting of betrayal when she stopped them in front of the Slopeside Equipment Hut.

“No way, Betts,” he started, but she tugged on his arm.

“This is the perfect way to re-launch the paper: a first-hand account of a thrilling experience.”  
  
“So you write it,” he protested, digging his heels in.

“I’ve been skiing before, it won’t be the same. Your fresh perspective will make for an interesting story. Come on, Juggie, I’ll do it with you, it’ll be an adventure.”

“It’ll be my funeral,” he said, but somehow he lost the battle, and in minutes he was inside, getting suited up. The guy behind the counter had recommended trying a snowboard, since Jug had experience on a skateboard, and apparently they weren’t that different. Jughead highly doubted that, but Betty was smiling at him with all the pride of an Olympics Mom, so he shrugged and obediently followed her out to the ski lift, appreciating the contrast between her golden hair and dark blue snowsuit. He thought it would be a nice last-moments image to recall as he died.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, as they joined several families in line for the shortest chairlift.

“Veronica was still getting ready when I came down to breakfast, but she and Archie have some kind of competition set on the blue course later, so I told her I’d catch up.”

“I don’t see anyone else from school either.”

“Well,” she began, counting on her fingers, “the boys are too macho to start with the easier slopes, and the girls want to be where the boys are.” She rolled her eyes. “Someone’s definitely breaking an ankle this week.”

The benefit of all this, he realized as they climbed aboard the lift, was a cozy ride to the bunny slopes, where few if any people he knew would be around to witness his demise.

“At least I won’t have an audience, when the broken ankles are mine.”

“You’ll be fine.”

The morning wind hit them full on as they started the climb upward, and Betty shivered, shifting closer. The warmth of her body was delicious in contrast to the icy air, and Jug hesitated. Facing an imminent mountain death seemed to be lending him a morbid disregard for consequences, because without deeper consideration, he slung an arm over her shoulders, offering his warmth.

“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning into his side, but his daring stopped short of glancing at her upturned face. Instead, they rode the last few minutes to the top of the slope in companionable quiet.

It was a beautiful, clear morning. The pristine landscape stretched down the mountain beneath them and beyond, miles of glittering powder dotted with dark spruce and evergreen trees as far as they could see. With his arm around Betty, and the golden edge of dawn yielding to blue skies overhead, Jughead bemusedly wondered if he had stumbled into a gum commercial. Betty snuggled closer, her head tucked under his chin, and he found that he didn’t care either way.

By the time they hopped off, he was nearly too hot, flushed with warmth emanating from his chest as much as shared body heat. The dangers of snowboarding suddenly felt very far off, overshadowed by the impromptu canoodling. Was he supposed to pretend it never happened, just a normal friend thing? _Was_ it a normal friend thing? Lost in thought, he mechanically stepped into his board like the equipment guy had shown him, and only when he straightened up, did he finally look at Betty again.

Already in her skis, she was smiling appreciatively at him, and he felt himself flush even deeper.

“You’re a natural, Juggie,” she laughed, pleasantly surprise.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” he said, but he smiled nervously back.

“It’ll be easy, come on.” She pushed herself forward until they were side-by-side at the top of the slope. His stomach fluttered again, but he wasn’t sure anymore if it was due to the likelihood of his mountain-death, or Betty.

“Just follow me, okay?”

She pushed off gracefully, and he watched for a moment as she glided gently down, the curve of her skis elegant as a dance.

“Come on, Jug!” she yelled back at him, already shrinking as she flew down the slope.

There was nothing else for it. Sighing, he leaned his body forward, feet feeling awkward and unbalanced, trapped as they were in the clips of his board. Gravity snagged him at once, and without really trying, he slid down the slope, gaining speed as he went. It _was_ a bit like skateboarding, he was chagrin to notice, but it was also harder to control with his feet locked in, all his steering ability reassigned to knees and hips alone.

Looking mostly down, he almost fell over when Betty pulled even with him. He had expected her to be far ahead, but of course, she knew how to slow herself, letting him catch up. His surprise still made him wobble, and then she was taking his hand to steady him, and he didn’t fall after all.

They reached the bottom before Jughead could catch his breath, still hand in hand as Betty helped him come to a stop.

“See?”  She was grinning in effervescent delight. “No broken ankles.”

She was still holding his hand, and gloved though they were, he felt the contact like an electric current.

“Only because you caught me,” he said, voice coming out huskier and more intimate than he intended.

“Any time,” she said, and he could swear her voice was softer too. She squeezed his hand once more before she let go, cheeks and lips flushed bright pink in the cold, blue eyes appearing even bluer against her snowsuit as she held his gaze. Jug’s chest was close to bursting. In a moment he was going to kiss her right there, consequences be damned.

“Mommmyyyyyyy!” A small child on even smaller skis flew by them, her mother yelling panicked directions as she skied behind, breaking the moment.

“Come on,” Betty said, pushing off again toward the chairlifts. “One more practice run and then I think you’re ready for the real deal.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he said, but followed her anyway.

 

\- - - - -

 

“Ow, shit. Shit! I _told_ you I had a bad feeling about this,” Jug said, cradling his wrist to his chest as Betty, Archie and Kevin rushed over to help. As he had expected, just a few practice runs on the bunny slopes had not properly prepared him for the medium-level course everyone else seemed to find easy. He had landed hard halfway down the slope, arm outstretched to break his fall, and was now awkwardly sideways, snowboard cutting into the powder beneath him as melting snow seeped into his collar and boots.

“Juggie! Are you okay?” Betty’s hand slid around the back of his neck, soothing as she crouched over him, but he was too irritated to enjoy her attentions.

“I’m fine, just let me get out of this stupid board.” He reached with his good hand for the clasps, unsnapping them with clumsy fingers while Archie and Kevin skied to a stop alongside. They hauled him to his feet as he hissed in pain, their worried faces looming closer. He felt so stupid- even stupider the more they hovered, peppering him with questions about his injury. Scowling, he plucked his board out of the snow and shoved it under his injured arm.

“I can take that for you, bud,” Archie said, reaching for it, but Juggie stumbled back a few paces.

“I’m fine, okay. I got it.” He turned and began walking back toward the lodge.

“Are you sure-” Betty began, but he couldn’t take the pity in her voice. Without another word, he flashed a thumbs-up over his shoulder and kept walking.

 

\- - - - -

 

Unfortunately for Jughead, he was ambushed before he could get to his room, the chance to nurse his wounds (and pride) in privacy snatched away. One of the chaperones had spotted him in the lobby, swollen wrist held stiffly to his chest, and the next thing he knew, he was being bandaged, iced, and medicated in the resort’s onsite clinic. A sprain was dubbed lucky, compared with many of the skiing injuries the medic often saw. Jug sat stiffly in her little office, accepting her ministrations and chatter in silence. His face still burned with embarrassment.

Finally released, he climbed the stairs back to his room, seeking solitude, but the sleuth in him couldn’t help pausing by the window when he spotted two familiar figures below.

Much higher up from them, Jug could still make out the telltale blonde and redhead talking closely in front of the ski lift.  He couldn’t make out their expressions, but then, he stopped trying to, after the blonde figure flung her arms around the ginger one.  
  
Bee-lining for his room, Jughead dove beneath the pressed white sheets of his bed, careful of his wrist, and let sleep drag him down into troubled dreams.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

A series of increasingly loud knocks brought Jughead slowly out of oblivion. Bright light added to his disorientation as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. The clock on the nightstand said 9:14, but it was definitely daylight coming through the windows. He must have slept through dinner, Archie’s return to the room, and the entire night. Across from him, Archie’s bed was unmade but empty, his friend apparently already out for the day.  
  
The knocking continued.

Jug hauled himself out of bed, joints stiff and beanie lost somewhere in the ocean of bed sheets, to peer through the peephole of his room.

For once, he wasn’t thrilled to see Betty on the other side, looking bleary and sleep-mussed herself, but determined. Jug stifled a groan, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the door frame.

After a moment of internal debate, he pulled the door open, glaring through the even-brighter light of the cold hallway. Betty straightened to offer him a tentative smile, opened her mouth to speak... and then sneezed three times in a row.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Sorry,” she said, sniffing. He took in her tired eyes, messy hair, and reddened nose.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine,” she waved him off. “You’re the one with an injury. I brought you an ice pack.”

She held it aloft as proof, but Jug didn’t move, still stinging from yesterday’s events. The blonde sighed and swung around to reveal her backpack, stuffed to overflowing with baked goods.

For a tenth of a second he considered accusing her of bribery, but then his traitor stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Sighing, he gave in, gesturing her into the room. He swiped a chocolate muffin as she passed, and had shoved the whole thing in his mouth by the time she settled in, making herself at home on his bed.

Ignoring the little thrill _that_ provoked, along with the ice pack she held out to him again, Jug turned to the small table across from the beds, where a cheap coffee maker sat beside the TV. Still chewing, he rummaged through packets of shitty coffee and single-serving creamer to the sole tea bag beneath, popping it into the machine and pressing the brew button.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Betty said quietly to his back. She couldn’t see him wince from this angle, for which he was grateful. The muffin was now a painful lump in his throat.

“You should be. I never did get to finish my bacon,” he said, finally turning around.

“I’m serious, Jughead. I’m sorry that I pushed you into snowboarding, and didn’t let you practice enough, _and_ didn’t come with you to the clinic. Mrs. Roberts said you sprained your wrist.”

“It’s not a bad sprain.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You slept through dinner, Juggie.” Admittedly, that was very out of character for him.

Coming to his side, Betty gently took his arm, where she pressed the ice pack against his purpled wrist. He shivered, and she peeked up at him with a smile.

“You okay?” she asked, and then sneezed again, even more violently.

“Are you?” He took the ice pack from her hand and led her back to his bed, where he made her get under the covers, all the while firmly shoving down the implications in his mind. When the coffee machine beeped, he collected a steaming mug of tea and brought it to her, along with the box of tissues from the bathroom.

“You’re not going out on the slopes today,” he said sternly.

“Obviously,” she sniffed again. “I’m staying here with you. We can keep each other company.”

She blew her nose.

“Some company you are,” he mumbled, but had to squash a pleased smile, distracting himself with the hunt for his beanie. Betty fished it out from under her, and he pulled it on.

“Stay here. I’ll go see what the nurse has.”

 

\- - - - -

 

By the time he returned to his room, laden with cold remedies, sandwiches, and more packets of tea, Jughead found Betty asleep in his bed, surrounded by the remains of her baked goods haul. It looked like she had been organizing them by flavor, and then size.

Frozen by the door, Jug ached to snap a picture, to record this scene of his personal heaven and maybe also tease her about later, but the sound of the door clicking shut stirred her, and in a moment her eyes fluttered open. She smiled sleepily up at him and stretched, coughing a little as she sat up.

The knowledge of how soft and cute she looked while waking was something Jug could have lived without. That kind of information was bad for his mental health. He dropped his gaze and turned to Archie’s bed, depositing an armful of supplies.

“The nurse said I should check if you have a fever before giving you anything.” He pulled out an old-fashioned glass thermometer and handed it to her.

“I don’t feel feverish,” she protested, but she took it from his hands and obediently slipped the silver tip beneath her tongue. While they waited, Jug helped her transfer her kingdom of pastries onto the table, and then he pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them. Betty followed the cards with her eyes, watching the easy flow of them between his deft hands.

After a minute, he reached over and gently plucked the thermometer from her lips, holding it into the light to read “100.1.”

“Well, it’s a close call Betts, but I think you’ll make it.”

“I was so worried,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Are we playing cards or what?”

 

\- - - - -

 

The sandwiches were eyeing Jughead from neutral territory across the room, when the clock hit noon, but there was no way he was folding his hand of poker now. Betty, propped up against his pillows and wielding a handful of tissues at all times, had nevertheless smoked him in the last two games, and the stakes were inching higher. She now held all the baked goods they hadn’t yet eaten, the hotel shampoos, and his jean jacket, which she wore with the collar popped, just to mess with him. It was sort of working, in that he kept losing his poker face every time he looked at her.

Between them on the bed now were their biggest bets yet: a huge chocolate chip cookie and his precious beanie. The pressure was on.

Jug glanced from his decent hand to the unknown cards in hers, weighing the chances of her pulling an ace or queen, and trying not to get distracted with the predatory smirk on her lips. He drew his final card from the deck and let out a sigh of relief. He might actually have a chance at winning with this hand.

Of course, nobody would suspect Betty Cooper of being a champion poker player, so he couldn’t really be blamed for his optimism.

Her full house left him out of loot and starving, but also impressed. Admitting defeat, he ceremoniously brought over their sub sandwiches like a victor’s bouquet for Betty, who grinned and then pulled on his hat, too. If it were anyone else, he’d have stolen it back, fairness be damned, but the sight of her bright golden hair curling out from the worn edges of the cap did funny things to his stomach, and he decided that food was priority number one. He stole back one of the sandwiches.

“How are you feeling?” he asked between bites.

“You mean, besides ‘like a winner’?” She said smugly. “Mostly fine. I wish my nose would stop dripping though. I need a ‘good steaming,’ as my mom would say.”

“Does a hot tub count?” Jug said, food still in his mouth. A second later his brain caught up with the suggestion he’d just made, picturing the whole scenario far too vividly, and he coughed, almost choking on his sub. “I mean, uh, you know, I hear there are a lot of those here, and I assume they’re steamy..uhh.. like, there’s steam.”

“That is what happens when you heat water, yes,” Betty said, laughing. “That’s not a bad idea though. Maybe we can check it out after another game?”

Jughead tried to nod casually, but his heartbeat was passing the speed of light, and he couldn’t think of anything but steam and Betty. He lost again in poker, accidentally folding a good hand and letting Betty win his favorite ballpoint, dug out of the bottom of his bag, along with a worn copy of _In Cold Blood_ that she promised to return after reading. After that, he was well and truly out of treasures to gamble, and they cleaned up the remains of their morning in companionable silence. Scooping her little pile of winnings off the bed, Betty leaned over to kiss Jug on the cheek, startling him.

“Thanks for taking care of me today, Juggie.”

“You brought me an ice pack,” he said, ducking his head as he felt his cheeks warm. “And I hate skiing. I should be thanking you for the sprained wrist, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she laughed. “I’m going to change, see you in 20? And then maybe we can try the hot tubs.” Right on cue, she sniffed again. “Worth a try, anyway.”

“Sure,” he said, turning to make the bed as she left, but as soon as the door clicked shut, he fell boneless back onto it.

“I was wrong. _This_ is how I die,” he groaned.

 

\- - - - -

 

Three-thirty in the afternoon seemed far darker here than it had any right to be, Jughead thought, peering out the window between bouts of pacing his room. The atmosphere would be gloomy anywhere else, but up here in the mountains, surrounded by the woods and falling snow, it took on a mysterious, unearthly beauty. It was _romantic,_ and it made Jug itch. He felt a tug at the bottom of his heart, a warning to be careful, keep his expectations low, to protect himself at all costs. It was an old friend, that feeling, but today it warred with a current of energy that continued to figure-eight in his stomach, a pleasant swoop every time he remembered Betty’s soft lips against his cheek, her face beneath his beanie, or her laugh as she won at cards.

He was a man addicted.

He was in serious trouble.

The knock this time was short, like she knew he was waiting on edge, or so it seemed from the depths of his paranoia. Pulling the door open, he found a neater Betty than before, hair back in her usually ponytail, fresh-faced and dressed in a sweater and yoga pants.

“Got your swimsuit?” Her voice was more chipper too, though still a little stuffy.

“I was born ready,” he said.

She huffed a laugh. “I don’t think that’s how the line goes.”

“Shhh, you’re sick.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to lead the way, taking the back stairwell down to the gym and pool area a few floors below. Washed in the low glow of recessed lighting, the room was dim, warm and humid, like stepping into a different ecosystem. An Olympic-sized swimming pool stretched ahead, flanked by empty pool chairs and neatly piled pyramids of fluffy white towels.

Jug breathed a silent sigh of relief to spot at least three other people enjoying the hot tubs, which were arranged in a semicircle across the room. Soft grey light poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. Making their way closer, Betty and Jughead could see through to the flurries of snow and a stunning view of the valley below, with more mountains in the distance.

“Well shit,” Betty said, turning her head toward him without taking her eyes off the view. “Why does anyone waste time skiing when there’s this?”

“Have I thanked you yet for breaking my wrist?”

“Sprained,” she countered.

They set their things down by the edge of the leftmost tub, and then Betty pulled her sweater off. All at once, Jughead felt his stomach flip; the dream-like quality of everything, from the room to this ridiculous fantasy situation, was making him light-headed.

Oblivious, Betty pulled off the rest of her outer layers and dipped her feet into the water, where tendrils of steam curled lazily upwards. Jug couldn’t look at her directly, too afraid to give himself away, but he was hyper-aware of her black bikini, and of much more bare skin on display than he was ready for.

Yet standing there frozen was as bad as outright staring, so he forced himself to move like this was normal, to be alone in a hot tub in a luxury ski resort with a beautiful girl who was _just his friend_ _._ Even in the warmth of the room, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin as he stripped, and a flicker of self-consciousness made him glance down the length of his pale, thin frame.

Well. He was no Archie Andrews, but everyone knew that. And after all, _Archie_ wasn’t here right now.

Ahead of him, Betty stepped into the pool, sighing audibly in relief as she slowly submerged to her neck. Her eyes slid shut in pure bliss, and Jug risked a glance her way, struck by the diffused winter light bathing her through the window. Swallowing thickly, he stepped into the pool after her.

The sting of very hot water helped to ground him some, and as he settled directly across from Betty, she took several deep breaths.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Much. This was a great idea, Jug.”  
  
They soaked in companionable silence for a while, and gradually, Jughead relaxed. It wasn’t so terrifying, being warm and quiet with his favorite person, even if it involved a lot less clothing than usual. Betty had switched on the jets, and bubbles covered them both, offering a pleasant white noise that reminded him of summers by the river when they were kids, napping on rocks in the sun.

He was nearly to the point of dozing off when Betty’s foot tapped against his under the water, making him jump.

“Hey,” she said, smiling fondly at him. “Thank you for coming on this trip. I know it wasn’t your first choice for the holidays.”

“It was basically my only choice for the holidays,” he quipped, and then remembered who he was talking to. Betty was already sitting up though, brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just being melodramatic.”

“You obviously meant something, or you wouldn’t have said it. Are things not good with your dad?”

Prickling, Jug sat up too, the cool air chilling his shoulders.

“My dad is… my dad. He doesn’t always have his shit together, and it’s been worse since Mom took Jellybean to Toledo, but we deal with it. I’m dealing with it.”

Betty’s eyes narrowed, and Jughead knew he had messed up. She was too perceptive, a natural-born detective, and while he loved her for it, he did not need her uncovering all his shameful family secrets.

“That sounds a lot like your dad isn’t there for you, and you had nowhere else to go.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ve got it under control.”

She pursed her lips, a bad sign. “I’m your friend, I’m going to worry about you regardless. But if you don’t talk to me, I can’t be there for you either.”

He bristled. “I’m not a project for you to work on, Betty. I’m not a ‘problem’ you can ‘fix.’ I’ve been handling my family issues just fine long before we became real friends.”

“It’s not about _fixing_ anyone- you’re not broken, not any more than the rest of us. I’m just trying to be a ‘real friend.’ Real friends help each other.”

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, if you think helping you write the school newspaper is the same as helping me cope with an alcoholic father and indefinite couch-surfing, then sure, go for it. We’re totally even.”

There was a beat of shocked silence. Betty looked ready to cry, and Jughead felt it like a blade twisting in his own heart. He should have kept his distance, kept his mouth shut, instead of letting his guard down and revealing things better left in the dark. The look in her eyes now was far worse than pining at a distance had ever felt.

Abruptly, he stood, turning to leave before he did any more damage, but Betty grabbed his arm.

“Juggie, wait. I’m sorry, I- I didn’t know. That _sucks_ , and if there’s any way I can help-”

“You can’t.”

“Okay. But you know none of it is your fault, right? You know that I don’t think less of you if your family is a mess?”

“That’s easy to say.”

“Well, yeah. It is easy for me, because my family is fucked up too.”

He turned back to stare down at her, incredulous.

She let out a choked laugh, dark humor bubbling up. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t believe me. ‘Perfect Cooper family, cookie-cutter middle class life, girl-next-door for a daughter.’ Jughead, don’t you know me well enough by now to see through the bullshit? My parents are crazy, it’s all a facade. There’s a darkness in our family -- and in me too. I can feel it. I don’t know where it comes from, but sometimes I feel like... like I’m so close to snapping. And I don’t know what’ll happen when I finally do. But it feels...violent.”

Her confession echoed louder than expected, a sudden vacuum of sound as the jets automatically shut off, the word _violent_ falling like a stone between them. Instinctively, Jug glanced around, but all the other hotel guests seemed to have vanished.

Realizing they were alone made him more aware of her warm hand, still on his arm. It was all a lot to process.

Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded at first, the Cooper family’s issues were clicking into place. He’d seen enough of her mother’s weird control hangups firsthand to believe there was some Stepford Wives shit going on there. And perfect, incorruptible Betty Cooper confessing own inner demons was weirdly comforting.

For a moment, he was just grateful to know she was fucked up too; to not be as alone as he thought he was. And slowly it was dawning on him, how she knew about his own family shame now- and she was still here, trying to be his friend.

He covered her hand with his own. “Thanks, Betty.”

She offered a small, wry smile. “For being crazy?”

He felt the ghost of a smile tug at his own mouth. “For being a ‘Real Friend’.”

She squeezed his arm, and their eyes met through the steam. Using him as leverage, Betty pulled herself to her feet, and then they were on level, mere inches apart, and both dripping wet.

“There you are!”

They turned, letting go of each other as a figure emerged from the other side of the room. It was Veronica, looking flushed and smug - so, pretty much her usual self.

“We were wondering where you two had gone. And isn’t this cozy...I love a good hot tub.”

“It’s great,” Betty agreed. “But I think we’re about cooked, huh Juggie?”

Her smile when she glanced at him was full of shared secrets, and Jughead felt himself flush.

“I’m hungry anyways,” he shrugged.

Betty climbed out of the water first to wrap herself in a towel, but Jughead was too busy dodging Veronica’s triumphant, probing looks, collecting his things without stopping to dry off.

“See you guys at dinner?”

He didn’t wait for their reply, walking briskly through the door and immediately regretting it as a wall of chilled air hit him in the hallway, unthinkably cold. He was also dripping onto the carpet, but he wasn’t going back for a towel now. Instead, he jogged up the stairs to his room with teeth chattering, and went directly into the shower, where he let the warm spray guide his thoughts back to that moment before Ronnie had interrupted them.

He still didn’t want to get his hopes up, not if they were going to come crashing down on him like usual...but for the first time in a long time, he let himself wonder...what if they didn’t?

 

\- - - - -

 

Jughead was maybe a little quieter than normal through dinner, but no one questioned it, and as the others left, he lingered, picking at his third brownie while lost in thought. The girls and Kevin had rushed off to a showing of “It’s a Wonderful Life” in the hotel’s ballroom, but Jug wasn’t in the mood, and had begged off. Archie, too, whom he had barely seen all day, made his excuses and left in the other direction.

When Jug finally returned to their room, he found his friend pacing, guitar in hand. Archie was often secretive about his music before a song was finished, but the shade of red he turned when Jughead walked in was comical.

“I can come back later,” Jughead offered from the doorway, and Archie’s apologetic smile was answer enough.

Curiosity was a flaw of Jug’s, however, and anything that embarrassed Archie was hard to let lie. Feeling only a little guilty, Jughead loitered outside after the door closed behind him, just near enough to catch a few verses. There was something about _opening my eyes_ , and _seeing “you” for the first time_ , and _how long I’ve waited to tell you_ _._ Then something about the sky and _being sure_ _,_ and how _friendship became love._

Maybe it’s not what it sounds like, Jug thought. People don’t have to be living the exact circumstances of every song they write.

Listening closer, he heard Archie swear, and sigh dramatically, and then say aloud, “I hope I’m brave enough to do this, Betty Cooper.”

Jug didn’t wait around to hear more after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the overwhelming love for this fic, you guys blew me away with your enthusiasm. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! Let me know what you think - have I tortured poor Jughead too much? 
> 
> P.S. I promise this won't be the only "steamy" chapter ;)


	3. Chapter 3

 

Jughead wandered the quiet hallways of the resort late into the night, feeling sick to his stomach whenever he thought about returning to his room.

It was well past curfew, some surreal early hour of the morning, but the property was large, old and rustic, full of odd architectural details that offered hidden nooks. It was easy to keep out of sight whenever footsteps approached, which wasn’t often anyway. Jug found comfort in the isolation.

This was, he decided, the most awkward winter holiday he’d ever experienced. Not the worst, probably; after all, his childhood was far from idyllic, and if he was being honest with himself, this trip hadn’t been _all_ bad… but it still might be the most anxiety-inducing, which was saying something.

There was a part of Jughead that wanted to laugh - the bitter, splintering laughter of self-ridicule and familiar disappointment. The rest of him just felt trapped. Here he was, the school weirdo not-quite-reputable-enough to be a real social outcast, on the edge of a potential _love triangle_ with his two best friends, like the most cliched teen romance novel of all time. Just add vampires and he would have an instant YA hit.

That trope had always sounded so stupid and unrealistic before - the love triangle, not the vampires - although both were overdramatic and unappealing fantasies. He had assumed they were equally likely to happen to him, i.e. never. Yet here he was, in an uncomfortable spot between the two friends he cared most about, a situation that demanded action on his part, some decision.

He couldn’t just stand back and watch things play out this time. Or, he could, but that _would be_ making a decision. So he wandered, and he analyzed, absently absorbed in the diamond-patterned carpet, and the faint smell of old hotels: laundry detergent and recycled air.

Drifting in front of a window, he was caught by the tired reflection looking back at him, the dark circles under his eyes absurdly deep. Outside, a light snow fell, mirroring the fuzz in his thoughts. Jug frowned at himself and tried again to distill his dilemma into cold, hard data.

Here were the facts as he knew them: He loved Betty Cooper. He wanted to see her happy, even if that included the crushing blow of watching her end up with someone else. It would be awful, but Betty was his friend first and foremost. Jughead needed her in his life, even if she stayed only a friend.

Even if she ended up with Archie.

On the other hand, the last two days with her had been remarkably romantic, and he wasn’t sure anymore if all those moments could really add up to nothing. He was too pessimistic by nature to be imagining it all, surely. And if he wasn’t imagining it…

Veronica’s words came back to haunt him like a poltergeist, her clever phrases and barbs of wisdom pelting him.

So he pictured it for a moment... an allowance of candor and tenderness made into confession, to finally tell Betty what he’d felt all these years. He imagined her bright blue eyes taking him in, her shy smile, and finally her lips meeting his, cue the fireworks or at least some fluffy, sentimental snowfall.

When Archie’s face flashed through his mind a moment later, the dream crumbled. Archie had been his first friend - his _only_ friend for a long time, before he even met Betty. If Archie was planning some big love confession, how crushed would he be if Jughead not only stole his thunder, but stole his chance with Betty?

Letting his forehead thud against the icy window pane, Jughead sighed. For once, even the facts weren't making his life any clearer.

 

\- - - - -

 

Sunlight was ten thousand shades of glaring hell, and Jughead would volunteer to personally extinguish it forever if it meant he could rest in a cool dark place afterwards. Instead, he sat at one of the glossy oak tables in the dining hall, staring off into space as schoolmates trickled in for breakfast around him. The smell of bacon made him twitch, but anxiety still crackled through his empty, clenching stomach and he wasn’t sure he would be able to eat anything if he tried. Instead, he pulled his lukewarm coffee mug back towards him, curling numb fingers around it.

“You’re up early, Boo Radley. Did you pack already, or are those bags under your eyes just full of teenage angst?”

Jughead didn’t look up as Veronica sat down across from him with a plate full of fruit and steaming waffles. His stomach twisted again, hungry and nauseous at the same time.

“It’s your jokes,” he deadpanned. “They keep me up at night, they’re so bad.”

“How ironic. And your little hot tub sesh did nothing to relax you, hmm? It looked pretty… cozy.”

Finally, Jug rolled an insolent look her way. “As ever, your timing was impeccable.”

Ronnie had the grace to wince. “Sorry. If I had known I was interrupting a potentially crucial moment, I would have stayed away.”

Jughead looked back down at his sad, cooling cup of coffee. “I don’t know if it was all that crucial, or just...me projecting.”

“Well, it certainly looked like _something_. I’m pretty sure Betty even glared at me for a half a second when I first came in.”

His heart thumped, a ripple of hope spreading through him, but each wave crashed painfully into embankments of doubt, and anxiety, and guilt.

“Jughead,” Veronica said softly, and the use of his name made him lift his head again. “Are you really not going to say anything to her now? I think your odds are good, but sooner or later you’re going to lose your chance entirely.”

Yeah, that was exactly the dilemma he was facing. Jug looked back at Ronnie, her expression sincere for once. Maybe it was time to explain the Archie situation with his unlikely confidant, and get her take on it.

“I don’t-” he began, but a hand clapped down on his shoulder, cutting him off.

“Do you ever sleep, bud?” Archie squeezed his trap, just a little too hard, and slid into the chair next to him. “If I didn’t witness you snoozing through dinner the other day, I’d be worried.” He turned, brightening. “Happy Birthday, Veronica! How are the waffles?”

They chatted on without his input, Archie smiling and laughing like normal, but Jug felt double pangs of guilt now, one for each of them. In all the unexpected drama of his life recently, he’d forgotten the reason they were all here, on the Lodge family’s dime. But nothing seemed to bother Ronnie on her birthday. Magnanimously, she waved away his belated attempt at well-wishing, and when Arch got up to grab his own breakfast, she offered Jughead a private, supportive smile.

“Your friends love you, whatever happens. Go get her, Clarke Gable.”

He had to hand it to Veronica, she made a great cheerleader. Moments ago he was still crushed under the weight of his own doubts, but now… now he was seriously considering going for it. It would probably be messy - in fact, it might be _disastrous_ \- but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be worth the fall out, just this once.

Leaning forward, Jug stole a strawberry off her plate. “I’ll think about it,” he said, cracking his first smile in hours.

 

\- - - - -

 

Not long after, Jughead stood with Archie and Kevin in the lobby as Veronica chatted up the hotel concierge, getting tips on the best trails for a morning birthday hike, “inner circle only”. His slightly unfocused gaze wandered, eyes burning with fatigue, until they snagged on a flash of golden hair. Betty was jogging up to them, bagel jammed in her mouth and cup of coffee sloshing dangerously in her hand.

“Sorry, sorry. Overslept,” she said, taking the bagel from between her teeth. Jughead’s chest flared with warmth as she slotted in next to him like it was her natural place. Kevin and Archie were already drifting towards the door where Ronnie was waiting, but Jug did a double take when Kevin appeared to wink at him - or at least, that’s what it had looked like. The lack of sleep must be hitting hard, he thought, as they waded out into the sunshine and snow. He scrubbed at his eyes.

“We missed you at the movie last night,” Betty said, but when she turned to look at him, her smile fell. She took his arm, careful of his sprain, and pulled him to a stop as the others walked ahead. “Hey, are you feeling okay? You look exhausted, Jug.”

“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep last night,” he said, not meeting her eyes as she peered closer.

“Do you want to stay in today? Is your arm bothering you? We don’t have to go hiking.”

Jughead let himself look at her then, suddenly overcome with affection. All his boundaries felt weaker this morning, his emotions closer to the surface. When Betty’s protective nature flared fierce in her eyes, it made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

Quirking a smile, he shrugged. “And miss the modern marvel that is Veronica Lodge hiking in heels? No way. Besides, they say exercise helps with insomnia.  Might as well enjoy the ‘Great Outdoors’, right?”

“You’re right,” she said, mock-serious. “All this nature will definitely put you to sleep.”

He bumped his shoulder with hers and they hurried to meet the rest of the group waiting at the top of the hill. Jug caught the expectant look on Veronica’s face from halfway up, and he gave her a tiny shake of his head, eyes flashing to the others warily- but they were all looking at Betty and Jughead that way. Kevin stood too still, looking between them with narrowed eyes, and even Archie threw a questioning glance at their approach.

“Let’s go!” Betty said as they overtook the group, her voice perhaps a little too bright. Jughead had that weird sensation again, like he didn’t have all the pieces to this story, something his friends were keeping from him maybe. But Veronica was all encouraging smiles, and the others had already turned to go after Betty.

They followed a trail up the side of the mountain, drifting further and further from the ski slopes as the path wound diagonally, cutting into the trees and stone. The day was cloudy but dry, remnants of fresh powder crunching softly under their feet. To their right, the valley dropped off steeply, a clear and awe-inspiring vista, while signs along the path promised even better views at the top. Predictably, Archie pulled ahead, his long gait and enthusiasm lending him speed. Kevin, impressively, was nearly keeping up - or he would be, if he didn’t stop every two minutes to Instagram the view and, more often, his selfies. Betty was laughing at them, watching Veronica snag his arm each time and drag him on, as graceful and steely in her stiletto boots up a snowy mountain as she was walking the halls of Riverdale High.

“See?” Jughead said, pitching his voice low into Betty’s ear. “It’s like a cirque du soleil act, but cheaper.”

Betty smothered her laugh into his shoulder, and Jug felt every stupid cliche involving his heart and his stomach and other related parties, but managed to hide it in a pretend stop to retie his shoes.

When he stood, Betty was there waiting for him - but either by Ronnie’s good-natured plotting or simply chance, they were falling further and further behind their friends. Jug couldn’t even see Archie anymore around the next bend of trees, and when finally they turned the corner, even Kevin and Veronica were beyond their line of sight. He glanced at Betty, but she didn’t seem to mind, matching Jughead’s leisurely pace in quiet companionship.

His heart sped up, wondering if this was going to be the best chance he got at a private confession. Hiking trails in the snow were romantic enough, he figured, and if he was going to do it, then maybe beating Archie to the punch line was his best shot. After all, it’s not like Archie had confided in him about any new feelings for Betty; Jug could claim ignorance, and Archie would forgive him. Probably.

He cleared his throat, then cleared it again, nerves making his mouth dry.  “Hey, uh, I wanted to apologize for freaking out on you yesterday. Clearly my family is a sore spot, but that doesn’t mean I should take it out on the people I care about.”

He flicked another glance at Betty, already feeling like he had confessed something he couldn’t come back from. But she was looking at him with soft, understanding eyes.

“And you were only trying to help, so…” his voice faltered under a fresh wave of nerves as he tried to form the next words, the right words.

“Jughead, you don’t have to apologize. I was the one poking you into telling me all your problems, instead of letting you tell me when you’re ready.”

They slowed to a stop, and Jughead swung around to face her properly.

“You were right though,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. “Also…”

She smiled, tilting her head. “What?”

Now that he was on the brink of it, he couldn’t decide where to start. Long speech about his feelings? Straight to the point confession? He would kill for some mistletoe - wasn’t there always a lot of mistletoe in holiday movies?

Betty looked puzzled now, laughing a little at his dazed, blank expression. “What?”

He couldn’t hold it back anymore. If he couldn’t say it, he would just have to show her, mistletoe be damned.

He took a step forward, and then two more, stumbling into Betty as a hard, wet snowball clobbered him in the back.

Betty caught him, her arms bracing his, and then she was yelping as another snowball hit her right in the face. They turned to look for their attacker, still gripping each other, but the woods were too thick to see through. Tense, heavy silence hung around them, the sense of watching eyes like an itch on Jughead’s scalp.

In the next instant, dozens of snowballs came flying from all sides, and they ran for it. Betty was half-screaming, half-laughing. Hand-in-hand, they nearly fell twice as they made for a large boulder across the clearing. Once they had gained a bit of cover, she let go of him to scoop up her own weapon, and then they were in an all-out battle.

Jughead couldn’t help laughing with her as she lobbed snowball after snowball around their shelter. Lit up with joy and not a little competitive wrath, Betty held her own in the fight, if the surprised screams and muffled curses of their mystery opponents were anything to go by. The girl had a mean arm.

Jughead, on the other hand, could only pack snowballs at half-strength with his weakened wrist, and he stopped trying to fight back in favor of reconnaissance. Flashes of color amid the monochromatic landscape suggested at least five attackers, and most of them girls, judging from their voices. He couldn’t glean more than that, stuck behind their boulder.

They seemed to be at an impasse, dodging the worst but with nowhere to run - that is, until Jughead noticed, with dawning apprehension, that the snowballs coming their way were aimed too far above them to be accidental.

Looking up, he had just enough time to say Betty’s name before a massive pile of snow slipped from the branches of the tree overhead, avalanching directly on top of them.

Jughead’s vision went grey. For a moment, all he could see was the snow in front of his face. It was quiet and cold, and his wrist ached anew. He pushed upward, briefly claustrophobic, but Betty was there to help pull him out, though damp and snow-crusted herself. She looked him over with care.

“You okay?” she said, brushing snow out of his hair. His cap had come off.

Her face was very close to his, and when he looked up at her, they both went still.

“Stay frosty, bitches,” a syrupy voice called, startling the pair apart. Malicious giggles erupted nearby, drifting away until the forest was quiet again.

“Cheryl fucking Blossom,” Jug mumbled, twisting around to dig for his beanie.

“Can we do an investigative piece on _her_? Someone’s gotta take her down a peg.” Betty scowled, shaking more snow out of her ponytail.

“Care to discuss a revenge plan somewhere dry and less...outside? I know a great place with a hot chocolate bar,” Jug said, offering her a hand up. Romance could wait until later, when they were less soggy, he decided.

\- - - - -

 

“Later” had sounded so good, until Jughead remembered that he was on a deadline, and the deadline was “before Archie.”

It was their last night at the resort, too; a bittersweet mood hung over the whole student body, as they dreaded the return to reality and so appeared to have collectively taken the concept of “YOLO” to heart. Just walking back to his room for a shower, Jughead came across three different couples necking in the hallways, a fevered last hurrah spreading like the plague. Scowling, he stepped around the last pair before reaching his room, escaping to the blissfully empty space within. Archie had gone to do laps in the pool after dinner, and finding a moment alone felt sacred.

Hot water added to his bliss, warming his still-chilled bones even better than the hot chocolate and two big meals from earlier. He and Betty had sat steaming by the fireplace for a long time that afternoon, raiding the ever-replenishing buffet and playing all the board games that worked for two people.Their friends eventually found them again, and Betty’s ire was sparked anew as she described the snowy ambush.

“This means war, you guys. Stop laughing!”

Jug couldn’t help smiling to himself as he remembered, the tension of the previous night draining out of him as he relaxed into the heat. Tonight, he thought, would be a good time to talk to Betty. Their day together had been pretty much perfect, and the warm smile she had given him as they parted ways was the last bit of encouragement he needed. It was now or never.

Practicing his confession mid-shampoo, Jughead was jarred out of his thoughts by the thud of the outer door shutting. Anxiety flooded back all at once as he listened hard to Archie moving around their room, and he rushed to finish rinsing off, scrubbing furiously. The sudden silence as he hit the water was just in time to catch the door swinging shut again.

Fumbling to wrap a towel around his waist, Jug launched out of the bathroom, letting out a wall of steam as he stepped into the chilly air.

But Archie was gone. And so, he saw, was Archie’s guitar.

 

\- - - - -

 

He had never gotten dressed faster. Not even taking the time to find his beanie, Jughead was out the door in under a minute, hardly knowing where he was going, but already fearing he was too late getting there.

He nearly scared the pants off a cleaning lady in his haste, knocking a stack of fresh tissue boxes off her cart, spewing apologies but not stopping to help, not _now._

He checked the lobby and cafeteria without success, then the ballroom and back stairs - also empty. Climbing the steps back up, two at a time, he was arrested by the striking view of the valley outside, beautiful in the twilight of early evening - the same view Betty had admired just yesterday. From his nocturnal wandering, he happened to know you could see it best from one particular many-windowed lounge on the top floor. It didn’t take a lot of keen detective work to guide him from there.

Nine flights of stairs later, he was pretty sure his heart was a goner, Betty Cooper notwithstanding. Gasping for breath, he clung to the railing at the top, lifting his head to look around even as his stomach cramps pulled him floor-ward. The lounge was just through a hallway and around the corner, but the blood rushing through his ears was making it difficult to pick up any voices - singing or otherwise.

Stumbling forward, Jughead skittered through the long hall, where he caught the faintest hum of a low voice. He slowed then, willing his heart to calm down. Deep breath; a step closer. His ears strained to identify the speaker.

“I figured there was no better time to do this than tonight,” a low, soft voice said. Archie’s voice.

Jughead felt a wave of dread, lungs aching a new. _Too late, too late,_ his heartbeat thundered.

“As birthday presents go,” came another voice,  “a song written just for me is a charming novelty. As long as it’s good.”  

 _Wait,_ Jughead thought, feeling time slow to a halt. _**What?**_ Mechanically, he took another step forward, hands dragging along the wall to keep himself steady.

“Well, I hope you like it, Ronnie.”

He was inches away from turning the corner, wanting - _needing_ visual confirmation of what he was hearing, when a pair of hands hauled him backwards, dragged him into an empty conference room across the hall.

He watched in dumb shock as Betty twisted away from him to shut the door behind them, taking care to be silent as the first strains of guitar echoed down the hall.

Whirling back around, she whisper-yelled, “Are you trying to ruin all my hard work? Weeks of planning have gone into orchestrating this. It took me ages just to convince Archie-”

“Holy shit,” Jug interjected. He stared at Betty, swallowing a hysterical laugh that threatened from deep in his chest.

“What?” Betty said, derailed from her quiet tirade.

“Now I get it,” he said, and then he reached out a hand to tug Betty closer, lifting his other hand to cradle her face, and kissed her.

It was almost like someone else had done it, at first. He didn’t have a conscious memory of deciding to kiss her, he just suddenly was. He felt her surprise, and how quickly it melted into reaction, her lips moving against his to deepen the kiss, meeting him with so much exuberance it made him dizzy with relief, and then with want.

He walked them backwards until he bumped into the conference table, sparks lighting within him as Betty chased his mouth. She squeaked in surprise when he spun them around, but took his cue when he attempted a one-armed lift, boosting herself up to sit on the table. Then she was drawing him back in, grinning wickedly as she made room for him between her knees.

Now that they were on level, Jughead took the time to slow down, memorizing this moment, the feel of her against him, real and perfect. He drew out their kisses, so sweet and full of feeling that he had to break off for a moment, breathing roughly against her jaw as he tightened his arms around her.

“Juggie,” she gasped, “I know.” She laughed, airy and not a little shaky herself. “Me too.”

She drew back slightly to look at him, her palm sliding over his cheek. For a moment, they just stared at each other, breathing hard. Beneath her gaze, he was filled with lightness and warmth, an absence of worry he had carried too long to notice until it was gone. Now the world felt bright and welcoming, with Betty Cooper leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, just because she could. He pressed his forehead to hers, smiling shyly.

An odd thump and twang of strings came from beyond the door behind them, the sound of a guitar dropped to the floor, and Betty tilted her head, listening.

“We should probably leave now, before they get..uh...noisy?”

Jug sniggered into her neck. “Where to, Betts?” he asked, drawing back.

“Well, assuming things went well - and it sounds like they did - I’ve got strict orders to keep you away from your room tonight.”

“Do you,” he said.

“I’m a _really_ good friend, Jug.”

Laughing, he pulled her off the table and felt his heart swell when she kept his hand. If this was the new normal, he would have to get used to it, but right now every new thing was a thrill, and probably would be for a while.

Lacing her fingers with his, Betty checked that the coast was clear before pulling him out of the conference room and down to her floor. No one they passed paid them any attention, but the intrigue of their “escape” was hitting all of his buttons, and Betty kept up the act of checking around corners like she knew it, stealing kisses behind columns and fake plants until they had “sneaked” their way to her door.

Her room was a mirror image of his, the same rustic decor, the same double beds; but entering it felt like crossing continents, a new world awaiting discovery. When the door clicked shut behind them, Betty let go of his hand to kick off her shoes, flopping onto her bed to turn on the TV. Jug felt a moment of uncertainty again, hovering in the entryway and wondering what he was supposed to do, until she found the classic movie channel playing “His Girl Friday.”

It was already the best day of Jughead’s life; but then Betty pulled him into bed with her, and Rosalind Russell was just getting wound up over Cary Grant's antics, and Betty was mouthing the lines of the film to him between lazy kisses, and he had never been happier.

 

\- - - - -

 

The next morning was a haze of sleepy teenagers rapidly packing before their early bus departure. Some were visibly sad to be leaving, some anxious to get home, some glowing with newly-minted romance.

Jughead watched the procession of them through the lobby, leaning casually against the railing above. Observing the dramatic range of emotions playing out, he was comforted to see that some things never change.

A moment later, an arm snaked around his waist from behind, and he smiled down at Betty as she fit neatly into his side. _Well,_ he thought, _some change is nice._

Across the hall, Archie appeared with a load of luggage and a goofy, glazed smile across his face. Veronica came down the stairs after him, and the two managed a perfectly synchronized blush as they spotted Betty and Jughead watching them.

Archie recovered first, hoisting one of the bags on his shoulder as he headed over.

“Morning,” he said, after an awkward pause. He tossed Jug his backpack, and then pulled Jug’s beanie out of his back pocket.

“Thanks, Archie,” Jughead said, conscious of Betty still curled around him. “Great vacation, huh?”

“Shut up,” Archie said pleasantly. “Like you’ve got room to talk.”

Veronica came up beside him, with just a little less confidence than normal. “I think we _all_ owe Betty a very warm thank you for getting us here,” she said, her bashful smile turning smug as she met Jug’s eyes. “Now come on, I want good seats on the bus.”

Jughead followed his friends downstairs, but Veronica’s comment had snagged his attention, a reminder of the one puzzle piece he couldn’t seem to settle. Taking Betty’s bags with his own, he fell into step with Archie as they lined up to load their luggage.

“So, I get the secrecy, I get that Betty was helping you with Veronica...but why did you need me to come on this trip? You couldn’t have let me in on that?”

Archie looked uncomfortable. “You know Betty is a vicious negotiator, right? The second I asked for her help with Ronnie, she wanted mine in return. To be honest, you weren’t really part of my plan, aside from giving up your room last night.”

“..Okay,” Jughead said, gears turning as his suspicion solidified. “So I was part of Betty’s plan, then?”

It was Archie’s turn to toss his bags into the compartment, but he halted in his tracks to give Jughead a look. “Dude, You _were_ her plan.”

Jug opened and shut his mouth a few times, not sure what to say. In the end, he added his and Betty’s bags to the bus and followed the last few students climbing aboard without a word.

Kevin, sitting near the front, offered him an approving fist-bump as he passed, which Jug accepted on autopilot.

Still dazed, his eyes skipped right over Cheryl Blossom’s mean girl gang, and he walked back to where Betty was saving him a seat across from Archie and Veronica, already cuddling. Betty smiled as he took his seat next to her, reaching for his hand, but then she caught his expression.

“What’s wrong, Jug?”

He eyed her accusingly. “ _You_ have a crush on me.”

Betty stared blankly back at him, before her lips slowly curved into a smile.

“Jughead, I really hope you’re a better detective than this for the _Blue & Gold_.”

The sound of Veronica’s laughter chased him even through his headphones as he pretended to fall asleep against his girlfriend’s shoulder.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cheesy DJ voice* This one goes out to all the lovers out there.
> 
> Apologies that this took so long to finish! I've had an absolutely batshit-hit-the-fan crazy month at work. I really appreciate all the encouraging comments and love from you guys in the meantime <3 Hopefully, it was worth the wait.
> 
> On another note, I HAD planned on including some R (or X)-rated content in this chapter, but the scene just didn't fit, these kids just wanted to be fluffy. (Gross) So, possibly I may add an epilogue or alt POV piece with Betty's side of things, once things are back to normal in my personal life. ;)


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